Perfect
by The Sarcastic Polar Bear
Summary: House lies to Cuddy, then collapses, and an argument leads to something more, and two people become one.


**I was standing outside at like, 11:10 PM last night walking the dogs and this, for some reason, popped in and I knew I had to write it immediately! It takes place in Season 5 after House's dad dies, just saying.  
**

"Ugh, House is forty minutes late, where is he?" Dr. Lisa Cuddy complained, dropping the papers she had just completed into a pile on the lobby's desk. House was never this late, he usually got to work no more than fifteen minutes later than the time he was supposed to be. She tried to cover the fact that she was worried sick about him.

"Hey Cuddy." Wilson called. Cuddy turned toward him, and saw that he was alone, House was nowhere to be seen.

"Hey, have you heard from House? He's forty minutes late." Cuddy asked. She felt incredible disappointment when the oncologist shook his head.

"No." Wilson said. Cuddy sighed and walked away from the lobby desk, and sat in her office, the door cracked open, and she waited for the arrival of House. Five more minutes passed, and Wilson came into her office.

"Seen him yet?" He asked.

"no." Cuddy sat straighter and sighed again.

"Try calling him." Wilson suggested. Cuddy di this, and got House's answering machine.

''I'll try his cell." Wilson offered, as he, too, was growing worried about his friend. No answer. He sighed and closed his phone, slipping it into his pocket, and for a couple of minutes they sat there silently. Once again, Cuddy called House's cell and home phone, neither answered. Five more minutes, Wilson tried, no answer.

"It's been an hour.'' Cuddy sighed, minutes later, with no arrival of House. "Do you think he's okay?" Cuddy was genuinely worried now, and feared the worst could have happened, though she had no idea what it could be.

Wilson stayed silent for several seconds, looked grim, and said, "I don't know, Cuddy.''

_Why would House be so late? Is he hurt, sick? Maybe he's on his way, _Cuddy thought, doubtfully though. Anyhow, she said, "Maybe he's on his way now, stuck in traffic." Her voice was faint. Wilson looked doubtful, too, but he said nothing.

The two chose to wait a little longer. Ten more minutes. House never came. "Maybe he was in a motorcycle accident, or sick, or hurt...." Cuddy trailed off.

"If he's sick or hurt, it must be serious if he won't answer his phone." Wilson said gravely. He, too, was extremely worried about his friend. "Maybe one of us should go to his house." As he stood to get his car keys, Cuddy's door opened slightly, and her heart started to get more joyous. She and Wilson shared a quick look, but they were only slightly relieved, because House would just barge in. To their incredible dismay, it was only Chase.

"Have either of you seen House? He's not here." Dr. Chase requested, seeming slightly worried. Cuddy looked at both Chase and Wilson, then back at Chase, and said:

"No, he hasn't come here, I don't know where he is." Cuddy tried to push away her fears as she spoke.

"Oh, because Cameron and I are getting worried. Call if you see him." With that, Chase left.

* * *

Meanwhile, House lay on his couch at home, intense pain shooting up his leg, he was sweating, he was burning up. The phone rang several times, but he felt too weak and was in too much pain to move to answer it.

Finally, he managed to pull himself up, and shakily stood, nearly collapsing in the floor. He stretched out a hand and seized the arm of the sofa to steady himself, then reached out and grabbed his cane. Struggling, he stumbled into the bathroom, where he slowly pulled his clothing off, and settled down into the hot tub water. The warm water sent a relaxing sensation throughout his body, but he still felt pain.

After soaking, he got out and re-dressed, then limped to the hall closet and selected a blazer, then checked to see if his face was clear from sweat. It was, and he left his home, locked the door, and boarded his motorcycle and left. He headed to Princeton Plainsboro, where he knew Cuddy would be worried to death.

* * *

Wilson now prepared to leave to check on House, and Cuddy sat with her head in her hands. She stood. "I'm coming with you."

But suddenly, the main hospital door opened, and she and Wilson froze. Half a minute later, her door opened and there stood House, looking fine, just tired.

Cuddy was so relieved she couldn't be angry. Wilson now sat and looked at House with questioning eyes.

"Where were you?" Cuddy finally spoke.

House wanted so greatly to tell her, but he pushed the feelings away and said, "I slept in. Then I lost track of time."

Cuddy now felt anger. She opened her mouth, but froze. What if he was lying? But he looked perfectly fine. He looked like his usual self.

"Lost track of time? It's been almost two hours, are you sure you're okay?" Wilson asked.

"Fine." House lied.

"How can you lose two hours of time, House? You had us worried sick! We were getting ready to go to your house and see if you were okay! There's something called an alarm clock, but it seems like you don't think you need one, because you don't seem to care." Cuddy snapped. She saw a hurt look in his face, but her feelings led her to ignore it.

"Wilson, I want a moment alone with House.'' She instructed. Wilson nodded and left, leaving them alone.

"House, why would you do this? You could have at least picked up the phone, instead of letting us think you were hurt." Cuddy sighed.

"I didn't hear the phone." House lied again, trying to cover up his true feelings.

"We called both numbers twice! You would've heard them, House." Cuddy rolled her eyes and glared at her employee. She was so mad that he had caused so much worry, then showed up without a word.

"I'm sorry." House apologized. The pain was returning. He touched his right thigh, Cuddy not noticing.

"Fine, just go do clinic duty." Cuddy scolded, turning to her desk. She heard him leave and turned to see him gone, to do clinic work without a word. Something was wrong, Cuddy knew.

* * *

House ignored the feelings that tore at and shattered his heart. He silently entered the first exam room, where a girl around sixteen sat, waiting for him.

"I think I'm pregnant." she said.

"Oh, okay." House had very little to say, unlike usual, when we would fire one sarcastic comment after another.

Once he was done, and proved the girl was right, she left, and House stood from where he sat, and Wilson entered, and he had a feeling Cuddy would arrive soon.

"Hey, we need to talk.'' Wilson said.

House nodded, but when he took a step, his leg shook, and the room stating spinning. He grew warm, and felt sweat trickle.

"You okay?" Wilson took a step toward him, looking concerned.

House felt his knees bend, and saw Wilson walking towards him, and he felt his knees hit the floor, and heard Wilson's running feet, and he then collapsed on the ground, and shook violently.

"Need a crash cart in here!" Wilson yelled, and that was the last thing House heard.

* * *

Hours later, House woke in his bed at home, Cuddy sitting near him, laying a cloth on his head.

"God, what happened?" House asked, and Cuddy sighed with relief.

"You passed out at the hospital." Cuddy explained, pulling out her cell phone and calling Wilson. "He's awake." she said, then she said few things about House's condition, then hung up.

"House, you weren't okay this morning, were you?" she whispered.

House closed his eyes, and breathed deeply, before opening his eyes and sighing, "No."

"What was wrong?" Cuddy asked.

"My leg was hurting, I had a fever, and I could hardly move." House listed, still feeling intense pain.

"Why'd you lie to me?" Cuddy asked.

"I didn't want you to worry." House whispered.

"House, you need to tell me what's wrong when something happens! How will I believe you if something terrible happened?" Cuddy asked, upset that he had lied to her. "You could've died!"

"Stop worrying about me and start worrying about the patients!" House exclaimed, though he wasn't the most caring doctor in the hospital, that was Cameron's job, hated it when people fussed over him.

''House, all we had was the clinic patients! No dying people...nobody!" Cuddy said.

"Just forget it!" House snapped, starting to get out of bed.

"No! I won't forget!" Cuddy pushed him back down to a sitting position.

"I'm fine now!" House yelled.

"No, House! You passed out and had problems before coming, and you _lied _to me about it! And you think everybody else lying is a bad thing!" Cuddy shouted. "This is serious! You can't expect me to trust you after you lie, what if next time, it's worse!?''

"Don't say that! It'll be fine!" House yelled.

"House! You don't know! What if you hadn't come? Then what would've happened?" Cuddy yelled.

"Well, I did come, and that's what matters!"

"If you'd just said something, we could've found out what was wrong before this happened!"

"Well, it doesn't matter now, nothing matters!"

"House, you need help, so don't lie!"

"Don't worry about me, okay!? I don't need help!" House screamed.

"You never accept help! You won't because you're stubborn and you don't appreciate anything!" Cuddy shouted, not knowing just how much she had hurt him with her words. She grew quiet as she watched House's face cloud over, and he seemed lost in deep thought.

_FLASHBACK:_

_"No, Daddy! Please don't! I didn't mean it" 8-year-old Gregory House cried as his father gripped his arm and yanked him roughly towards the tub of ice water._

_"You should've ate the food I put out!" John House seized his son roughly._

_"I did eat it!"_

_"You didn't eat the other plate!"_

_"I threw up! The food was rotten!"_

_"You're so stubborn! You don't appreciate anything! Now get in the tub!"_

* * *

''House? House!" Cuddy shook his shoulder gently. "House! What's wrong?"

But House was deep in thought, his eyes were closed, and the hand on his arm made him panic.

"No, Dad, please, no!" He cried, not realizing it was Cuddy, and he for a while forgot his dad was dead. Though it wasn't his biological father, the memory completely absorbed House, and it seemed as if he were in that bathroom, years ago, being threatened.

"House, it's me." Cuddy whispered, stroking his face, forgetting her anger.

He was snapped back into reality, his face felt damp. Not sweat. Tears. The memory, with many others, still haunted him.

"House.... what was that?"

"Nothing... just... ignore it." House whispered. But Cuddy didn't budge, she kept her hand on him and looked at him with eyes of sorrow. He gazed into her eyes, and took a breath.

"Please...tell me." Cuddy whispered.

"My dad. He said those words to me when I was eight. I never forgot them, he hated me and he still does." House whispered, feeling shattered that his father was not the only one who thought that way about him. His dad was the reason he never accepted help. He had grown up thinking it was a sign of weakness.

''Oh, House..." Cuddy was speechless. It all made sense now. Why he had refused to attend his father's funeral, and she had had to drug him and Wilson had driven him against his will, she should have realized.

"I tried killing myself this day when I was fifteen. Before I even tried, he caught me."

Cuddy took a deep breath, then said, "I'm sorry, I had no idea."

"You wouldn't have, don't be sorry. I should be sorry. I was a terrible child my whole life."

"House, I-"

But, she noticed something. She noticed for the first time, House had been crying. She felt so horrible for what she said. Everything, absolutely everything made sense to her. She wrapped her arms around him, and rested her face on his shoulder.

"It's okay now." she whispered.

Then, something truly amazing happened. As the hug broke, they stared into each other's eyes, unable to break apart. Their lips came closer, and closer, until they met. Their arms embraced each other, and for the next several seconds, it seemed as if they were floating.

One thing, Cuddy knew, that even though she knew House's traumatizing childhood, everything was perfect now....

_Perfect._

**Well, that's my first Huddy one-shot! It's the longest thing I've ever written! I desperately hope it wasn't to OOC, but in a situation like this, who wouldn't be?**


End file.
